“I think the chances of her being up here at the same time as us are pretty slim, so don’t worry. It won’t have been her.” She shook her head, confident inher answer.
It was a logical response.
I’d never felt so much disappointment mixed with relief; it was a bizarrecombination.
“I know. I think my heart stopped.” I lifted her hand up and pressed it against my chest. “Feel it now; it’s still beating like crazy. Imagine what it would be like if I saw her.” I sipped on my mai tai mocktail, which was better than the real thing. Nobody actually liked the taste of alcohol, right? I certainly didn’t; I just liked the way it made me feel—sometimes—in that moment I needed a stronger drink. I awaited Beth’s wisdom.
“It would be quite thespectacle.”
“The thought scares me to death. What would I say?” I was speaking hypothetically. That was all I had. It would never happen, but that hadn’t stopped me fantasising about what I would say for the past two years.
“You just say, hello? How’ve you been? How’s Japan? Hey, I don’t suppose your dad has stopped being a massive homophobic asshole yet?” Beth smirked. “See how easy that was? I can think of countless things.”
“Don’t...” I sighed.
“Seriously, if it happens, just be yourself.” I rolled my eyes. It would be impossible to be myself in that situation. I remembered having a crush on my mum’s best friend’s daughter in college. I thought it was cool to lean casually against the fish tank on the dining table whilst I lifted my top ever so slightly and told her all about my teenage abs and how I wanted to be a professional athlete. I absolutely did not, but I’d overheard her say she thought abs were sexy. I also didn’t have abs, but if I creased my stomach hard enough I could more or less create some. Anyway, my idiocy came back to bite me in the ass when I slipped, and my hand went into the tank.
In hindsight I was glad. I’d been one step away from putting on an Elvis Presley accent and saying something stupid like,How ya doing,little lady?
Beth nudged my arm. “Maybe you could tell her you’ve got a hot girlfriend called Francesca... And you’re engaged and about to move to... what’s that place called? The one with the pastel-coloured houses on the hill?”
“Positano?”
“That’s the one. You’re going to move to Positano and live happily ever after, spending night after night falling in love and falling out of champagne bars with a stomach full of pasta.”
“You paint quite the picture.”
She spied the glass of champagne on the next table and proceeded to sip her mocktail. “I hate pregnancy already,” she muttered underher breath.
I’d considered it. Recently, I’d been thinking more about Francesca, and how she could’ve been everything I needed. “It sounds nice, doesn’t it? The Italianlifestyle.”
“It could be your lifestyle.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
“Except it’s not and probably never will be. I think I royally screwed up that one.”
I’m an idiot.
“Even if you did. Brooke doesn’t need to know.” Beth wiggled her eyebrows.
“I can’t say any of that because it’s a lie. Besides, you’re talking like I’m going to see her.” I could feel the heat risingin my chest.
“Stop being such a lawyer. You’re not under oath now. It’s good to lie. You don’t want her to think you’re moping around, do you?”
“Again, it’s irrelevant, but is that what I’m doing? Moping?” I sulked.
“Just a smidge, but I get it.”
Beth pulled at the small curly strands of hair she’d left dangling down beside her ears. She had no makeup on, and she looked radiant. It was enviable.
“Can I just say, if Ren left me, I would make damn sure I told a million lies until he was so distraught with jealousy that he came crawling right back. I’d be dating the Japanese equivalent of Mr. Grey. I’d be dating some heir to the throne who had nothing better to do than spend all his millions on me. I’d pretend I had a beautifully sculpted stripper turned businessman who liked to grind on me all day, spin me around, and rub his sexy oiled eight-pack against my body whilst I watched him play with power toolsbutt naked.”
“Erm... okay. Kind of feels like you describedMagic Mike.”
“I did, yes. Channing Tatum is every girl’s dream—Well, everystraightgirl’s dream,” she corrected herself.
“I can see the appeal.”I chuckled.
The next forty minutes flew by. I finished my mocktail and with Beth’s blessing switched to the hard stuff. I told myself a brandy would take the edge off, but it was going to take more than a drink to get Brooke off my mind while we were both in Japan.
